Washington, D.C., Pennsylvania Avenue.
The sky was heavily overcast.
Three hundred thousand people had completely blocked the street.
The riot police's shield formation was forced back step by step by the crowd.
There was no smashing, looting, or burning.
All three hundred thousand wore black and held white flags printed with "KIRA."
"Recognize Kira's legitimacy!"
"Write the Kira Rules into humanity's constitution!"
The roars from the loudspeakers were deafening.
Some people in the crowd even held signs bearing popular internet memes.
"Question Kira, understand Kira, become a Kira fanatic!"
The Oval Office, White House.
A teacup smashed against the wall and shattered.
The president yanked his tie loose and slumped in his leather chair, panting, a large patch of sweat soaking the back of his shirt.
The chief of staff threw several documents onto the desk, his face ashen.
"Mr. President, there are three hundred thousand people outside."
"The National Guard refused the order to clear the streets."
The chief of staff swallowed.
"Their commander said half his troops are Kira believers too."
"Anyone who dares to shoot would be committing blasphemy."
The president opened his mouth, a strange, dry rasp rising from his throat, but for a long time he could not force out a single word.
For the past few days, national leaders across the globe had been struggling to hold on.
London, Paris, Berlin, Seoul-protests were erupting around the world.
People had had enough of financial conglomerates controlling everything, enough of a justice system riddled with holes.
Now a god capable of delivering divine punishment at any moment had appeared.
Those at the top were afraid.
No one dared sign an order to suppress the protests.
They knew that if they signed, by tomorrow morning they would be lying dead in bed, clutching their chests.
Through indiscriminate